


interlude

by amfiguree



Series: The BFF AU [6]
Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate Reality, Best Friends, Gen, M/M, Original Character(s), Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 23:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amfiguree/pseuds/amfiguree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>written for the prompt: archie wants to learn to play the guitar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	interlude

they miss the auditions that year. or cook misses it, technically, because david would have missed it either way, what with--  
  
either way. the auditions come and go and cook doesn't fly out for a single one of them. david tries everything, all but packs his bags for him and threatens to buy him a flight online, but cook won't budge. he _can't_. not when david still has weekly appointments with dr. campbell lined up for the next three months.  
  
(" _no,_ " cook'd snarled finally, one afternoon in the waiting room of the doctor's office. david had stared resolutely down at the magazines on the table, refusing to look back. "you're not changing my mind, archie. i'm not doing this and leaving you stuck here dealing with this shit _on your own_ , okay, so shut the fuck up about it. _i'm not going_."  
  
david said nothing, but his fingers were clenched in his lap, white-knuckled and shaking, and when the nurse called his name, quietly disapproving, he hadn't asked cook to follow.)  
  
cook stormed out of that office over a week ago, and maybe it's petty, but they haven't spoken at all since. meeting at school is unavoidable, but he's miserable and distracted and snappy in class, and david carries tension tight in his shoulders, walking around with his mouth pressed in a thin, unsmiling line. it's the longest (and most fucking pissed) cook's ever seen him.  
  
people have noticed enough that they're careful to stay out of cook's way, and eventually, kim smacks him upside the head and hisses, "you and archie better kiss and make up, or so help me god--"  
  
and since kim is kind of motherfucking terrifying, cook finds himself underneath david's window, finds himself scaling the tree in quick, practiced movements, finds himself tumbling into the room, graceless as always, and looks up to see david sitting on the edge of his bed.

he doesn't look surprised at all to see cook there, and cook isn't surprised by that either. david looks exhausted, lines bracketing his eyes and mouth both. cook knows how he feels; he's been waking up to that same face in the mirror every morning for the past nine days now.  
  
"been waiting long?" he says, and david shrugs and extends a hand to help him up off the floor.   
  
then they're both standing, and cook watches as david squares his shoulders and a guitar materializes in his hands. "you're going to have to teach me how to do this."   
  
"uh," cook says, thrown. "what?"  
  
"i can't practice with you like this," david says, waving a hand helplessly.  
  
(and cook wants to protest, wants to say _stop_ , but he can't, because david's voice is a breathless, low-pitched whine almost all the time now, petering out into emptiness in the middle of his sentences, and it makes cook _sick_ , makes his stomach roll and his fists clench, jesus _fuck_ , it's not fair, this was _their dream_ , none of this is fucking _fair_ \--)  
  
"okay," cook makes himself say instead, evenly, after a long, strained second. "so--"  
  
"so teach me how to play," david says, and holds the guitar out. "and i'll learn, and we can go back to practicing together."  
  
david's looking straight at him, earnest and open, like every other time he's tried to talk cook into doing what he knows is the right thing, like the marijuana incident, or the bust tire in arizona, or the fight over michael being a douchebag (which, seriously, cook still thinks he won that last one) and cook feels the knot in his chest unravel.   
  
it's not what they want, either of them, but it's a compromise, and right now it's the best they're going to get.  
  
"yeah," cook hears himself say, on an exhale, and he watches david's shoulders slump a little in relief. "yeah, that sounds -- of course i'll teach you."  
  
david finally smiles then, _beams_ , and it's like finding a familiar face in a crowd of people, like being able to breathe again. it's like the best kind of apology, and cook reaches over to pull david into a hug, ignoring his token squawk of protest. it only takes david a second to give in, to lean back. cook turns his face into david's shoulder, exhales low and shaky. "you know this has always been more important," he murmurs, muffled against david's skin, and only pulls away after he feels david nod.  
  
then david's swiping his hand over his face, and cook busies himself with unnecessarily tuning the guitar till his eyes stop stinging.   
  
"okay then," he says, eventually, when he can trust his voice again, and settles back against the headboard of david's bed, fiddles with a couple of notes till david's tucked up beside him, warm and solid. "let's start with the basics."


End file.
